


Attire

by maharieel



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, sex work (reference), violence (reference)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:08:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maharieel/pseuds/maharieel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashley Williams discovers a few new things about Noa Shepard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attire

Picturing the Commander in anything but her armour was hard. 

She was a military leader, and even if Ash hadn’t been on the Normandy for very long, she couldn’t imagine what Shepard would look like . . . casual (not that she could picture Alenko, or Joker, or even Chakwas either, but that was beside the point). She’d only ever seen her in armour or some form of military dress, so even coming up with the mental image was proving difficult. Walking into the Mess to find Shepard wearing a white cropped singlet and a pair of what looked like men’s Alliance-issue sweat pants was definitely not something she’d have imagined. Ever. 

“Want a cup, Williams?” Shepard asked, turning to her with a smirk. 

The thick belt holding Shepard’s pants in place had a dollar sign stitched onto it in gold. Ash couldn’t keep the surprise from her face. “Ah, no thanks . . . ma’am.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug, turning back to the half-made coffee. 

The Com system vibrated for a second before Joker’s voice sung out above them, the laugh in his tone obvious. “Smart move, Williams.”

Shepard threw her middle finger in the direction of the security camera, eyes not moving from the counter. “Fuck you.”

The sound of the pilots cackling echoed through the room as the line went dead. 

Ash had moved to stand at the counter, rummaging through a box of protein bars for her favourite flavour, as if she really needed any more down at her station. Her gaze often lingered to Shepard beside her though and the tattoos that looked as if they grew out from her shoulder, expanding down her arm in a spiral of outlandish colours and patterns. As Shepard turned to reach for the sugar, Ash noticed the pattern veered off in the opposite direction as well, spreading across her shoulder blades before running up her neck to her hair line. Ash had only ever seen the very tip of ink on her neck that often poked out from under Shepard’s armour or shirts. She’d assumed it was a small thing, an inspirational quote or some military insignia: small and easy to hide. But this . . . well it was the most elaborate body art Ash had ever seen. _Must’ve taken years._

“Like what you see?” Shepard asked, turning with a raised eyebrow. Steam from her coffee was making little clouds around the Commander’s face, not that she seemed to really notice. 

Ash let her eyes linger on Shepard’s arm (there was a what looked like a bullet on the underside of her wrist, the shape of it warped by the caverns of her veins) before answering with a grin. “Hell yeah, ma’am. Since when did you have such rad ink?”

That got a throaty laugh. “Since ages. Don’t get to show it much ‘round those by-the-book military types. Too ‘scandalous’ for a soldier of my status, apparently.”

The stupid grin wouldn’t wipe itself from Ash’s face as she moved closer to Shepard, running her finger along a rather morbid collage of explosions and blood on her shoulder. A flower was roughly draw below it, the specks of blood morphing into petals of red. “If you want my professional opinion, I think it’s fucking awesome. When’d you get it?”

Shepard casually dragged her arm out of Ash’s touch and wandered to perch herself on a chair in the Mess, bare muscles rippling as she twisted herself into a comfortable position. Alenko lifted his eyes briefly to gaze at Shepard (Ash wasn’t oblivious to the way they lingered on places they shouldn’t have and she was sure Shepard wasn’t either, judging from the smirk that played on her lips) before turning his attention back to the data-pad and makeshift meal set up before him with a sigh. Shepard shook her head at him. “Way back. Broke into a shop in Downtown that I knew did some great works and pointed a gun at the artist’s head. Ended up staying with him for a week or two while he did the art. Was a real nice guy. Even paid him back a smidge a few months later.” Ash let her eyes widen at the small anecdote. _Shit, so the gang stuff’s true._ “Paid for the rest with . . . well . . .” Her vague hand gesture downwards was enough.

Her words lingered in the air for eternities. Ash couldn’t quite get over the fact that a woman who’d run with gangs, threatened tattoo artists and used her body as commerce had ended up one of the best Commanders in the Alliance Navy. It was a . . . unique backstory, to say the least, but there was no doubt that Shepard had become one badass regardless of her upbringing. Privilege and money didn't always breed success. 

Alenko looked mildly more horrified at the statement, but after Shepard brushed it off a moment later, Ash saw the tension ease in his shoulders. _I need to talk to him about that._ Taking what proteins bars she’d ended up grabbing, Ash stood and shot Shepard another grin. “Ma’am, can I just say that you are really fucking awesome. You and the tats.”

Shepard snorted rather unceremoniously, taking a swig of her coffee. “Good to know I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

 _That_ got a smile from Alenko.


End file.
